Four Chairs.

Our kitchen table has four chairs, and for several years, we had our family of three at the table for four.  But three chairs filled felt right at the time.

Except when it didn’t.  A few years ago, that fourth chair became this thing for me, like it should have A Person for it.  There was a feeling that someone was missing nagged me through many breakfasts, lunches, and dinners.  Someone was supposed to be there.  I had no idea who, but I knew someone was missing from our lives.

The empty chair started to hurt to look at, especially during the years of negotiating infertility.

But last week … on August 23, after two years of trying for a baby, after 38 weeks and two days of pregnancy, after staring at that fourth chair for all of those days and wondering if anyone would ever claim it, we finally found Our Person to fill the seat.

(His bum is very tiny at the moment, but he’ll grow into the chair eventually.)

Welcome to the world, my sweetest little boy.  We love you in ways and for reasons too numerous to count.

You might also like:

Month 8,455 of Pregnancy. One Year Old. Spring-Loaded Navel Gazing. Day in the Life of a New (Old) Mom … with Diabetes.